When the Road Darkens
by DaenerysTargary3n
Summary: After a tragic event, Mary Bennet is required to join her sister and brother-in-law in Derbyshire, but when melancholia threatens to rip her from her faith and happiness, something nobody seems to be able to stop, will the middle and plain Bennet girl be able to find her true path to happiness? (Mary B./Col. Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth/Darcy, Jane/Bingley, Lydia/Wickham)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

"Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens."

~ J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

It was a warm summer's evening when the four remaining members of the Bennet family found themselves in a carriage bound for Longbourn after securing an alliance for their second youngest girl, Katherine, to a most respectable, if not wealthy, parson in a nearby village.

Fortunately for Mr Bennet and his daughters, the upheaval of travelling from their manor had fatigued Mrs Bennet so much so that she was on the cusp of sleep for the homeward journey and unable to form a single word.

Mary detested quitting Longbourn for any occasion whatsoever, even ones at which she could play the pianoforte and sing to her heart's content. She much preferred to remain in the home and at her own pianoforte but when her mother insisted that the whole family had to be present, there was no way she would even attempt to dissuade her. For, there was no changing Mrs Bennet's mind once it had latched onto something.

Kitty was still reeling from the official news that she would be wed to her beau by next spring only three years after her elder sisters had married their own husbands and had been revelling in marital bliss ever since. She gleefully anticipated her own entrance into the marriage state, especially as her intended was a small, country vicar with a handsome pension and parsonage. Her thoughts turned to her youngest sibling, the notorious Mrs George Wickham, the memory of whom made her sigh. When her sister had made her unfortunate bed and was made to lie in it, she had been unwitting of the true nature of the scandal it brought down on the Bennet household, but now, faced with her own happy ending (and a few years older and less silly), she was finally able to comprehend the gravity of Lydia's actions and misdeeds. For, Henry Keaton would never have taken her had she continued on the same path Lydia coaxed her onto during their girlhood and there was nothing she would not do to deserve her husband-to-be.

As Mr Bennet observed his daughter's face as it smiled serenely in the wake of her engagement, he too reflected on the good fortune of his family: two daughters comfortably and happily espoused to good, amiable men, one daughter whom he had not set eyes on since her initial visit after her marriage and another about to marry a man, who – luckily – possessed more sense than the other man of God associated with his family. What, or rather who, perplexed him was his daughter, Mary.

He whispered, not wanting to rouse his wife, "Mary dear, we should start looking for an affable groom for you now. Your mother will not waste another day, now that our Kitty is well-matched, you know."

Mary clutched at her copy of Fordyce's Sermons and nodded slightly at her father, unwilling to contemplate marriage…ever. She much preferred to live out her days in peaceful solitude, or perhaps, with a niece, if one of her sisters could spare a child, merely playing music and praising her Lord. A life of some man, who would take no pleasure in her plain face and unremarkable form, that did not care for her and who would expect her to bear his babes was insupportable. It was a life that spelled misery for the middle Bennet daughter.

"Papa, you have four married daughters," Mary postulated, "two of them to rich men. You and mama have done well enough. Cannot I be left to tend you and mama…and the estate?"

Kitty interjected, "Mary, do you not want to get married? How singular!"

"Hush, Kitty! You'll wake mama. And I know it is unusual for a young woman not to desire marriage, but truly, papa, I do not wish that for my life and I beg you not to impose it on me. I would be content to remain at Longbourn and care for the house and my parents in peace."

All Mr Bennet could do in the wake of this surprising development was nod silently at his daughter's words. He would not force her to undertake vows of matrimony but neither did he truly believe that her true happiness would be found at the side of her old and decrepit parents. However, perhaps the best path for his socially awkward and shy child would be to let her find her own way without too many parental expectations.

"Very well, my child," he said resignedly, "you shall have your way. As I did not force Lizzy to spend her life with Collins, I can hardly coerce you into marriage."

Mary, in a slip of character, threw herself from her seat and embraced her startled father, thanks falling from her lips that were more accustomed to prayer and song as she clung to her father's lapel as the carriage jostled them about.

As they were bumped together, Mrs Bennet was roused from her drowsiness and the occupants of the phaeton were made aware that their velocity down the path was increasing…rapidly.

"Good heavens," she exclaimed in her own particular way, "are we to be thrown onto the road to die among the creatures of the night?!"

Mr Bennet rolled his eyes, but in the privacy of his own mind acknowledged that aside from his dear wife's hyperbole, she had a point. They were travelling too fast and were gaining speed as they went, so he placed Mary, who had not loosened her grip, back into her proper place and took his cane to beat the ceiling with it.

"Driver," he bellowed, "what's the hurry?"

When there was no response he took care while leaning out of the window, but what he saw agitated his fear for himself and his womenfolk. The driver was unconscious atop the carriage and evidently had been at the tavern sampling the local offerings by the bottle that was clutched far more tightly than the reins were.

"Driver! Driver!"

"Oh, Mr Bennet, what is it? What is the matter?"

"Papa?" Kitty and Mary chorused together in worried voices.

Mr Bennet tried as best he could to stick the inebriated driver with his cane, but to no avail, so the best he could do in such a dire situation was to usher himself back inside the bucking box and clutch his wife to his side with one arm and tightly grip the handle in the carriage with the other.

Seeing their father behave with such an air of abject fear terrified the young women to the point that they were paralysed and could do nothing in the face of the coming disaster except watch as their mother cried out in terror and their father held onto her with uncharacteristic fondness and attachment, and so it was that the Bennet family hurtled towards the side of the road and then downwards into the ditch where the carriage splintered and the wood speared the horses, the driver and the passengers all…but one.

Fate had dealt Mary Bennet a strange but equally as cruel hand as had been given to her parents and sister.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"And a funeral, I found out, is like a wedding in reverse, with less time to plan."

~ J. Lincoln Fenn, Poe

Seven days later…

Three coffins on three biers were borne through the streets of Meryton past Longbourn manor and up to the church where they would be placed all three of them before the altar. Then the priest would speak of the three deceased Bennets and their good names and lives lived well and how they were called to God too soon. The whole town came out onto the streets to pay their respects to the tragic procession of bodies and followed after the three women who glided behind the carriages.

Mary Bennet, Elizabeth Darcy and Jane Bingley followed their parents' and sister's bodies, none of them able to weep, none of them able to put into words the sorrow that weighed on their hearts. The spouses of the elder sisters followed in humble and dutiful silence, also stunned by the still-fresh news of the Bennet family's untimely deaths.

When Jane and Elizabeth had received letters from their Aunt Phillips with news of the accident, neither could believe what had befallen their poor parents and Kitty. Unfortunately, the prose of their aunt had been overly poetic and had explained in brutal detail the nature of the incident, even going so far as to relate the surviving girl's wounds. Immediately, both had journeyed back to Hertfordshire to nurse Mary, who had been bedridden and comatose, which had occurred due to a severe head wound, and to make all the necessary arrangements for the funeral and the estate.

The matter of the estate was thankfully taken from their hands when Darcy stepped up and offered to take charge of all matters relating to Longbourn itself while the ladies occupied themselves with the funeral arrangements.

"Mr Darcy, what an honour it is to see you again," the irritating voice of Mr Collins said to Darcy, "though, it is such a sad occasion. Lady Catherine herself said it is the greatest sorrow when many lives are called to God but 'Mr Collins', said she, 'it is when family must endeavour to bind themselves to each other.' Your aunt, if I may say so, sir, has the wisdom of Socrates. You are blessed and fortunate in your relations."

Darcy rolled his eyes at the goose-like man's attentions as he walked on behind the procession, trying to keep his countenance from betraying his sheer disdain for the small man beside him. He had been forced to send an express to the vicarage at Hunsford as soon as he arrived at Longbourn, for as of Mr Bennet's passing, the master of the manor was William Collins. He strongly disagreed with the laws on female inheritance, for how could a legal system that placed the likes of Mr Collins above the sense and sensibility of women like his own mistress and Jane Bingley, who could have easily dealt with matters of estate with the help of her husband and her other sisters. It was intolerable…

"I thank you, Mr Collins," Darcy replied curtly, "but I do believe that your wife, Mrs Collins, must be in need of your strong, comforting presence at such a time as this. It would not be prudent to leave her side."

At such counsel, Mr Collins hastened back to his wife's side to pester her with his constant chatter and Bingley and Darcy were once more allowed to mourn their in-laws in serenity.

As Bingley watched Jane and her sisters follow the black coffins with their black horses and carriages, his concerned eyes fell upon Mary Bennet and an urgent thought crossed his mind, one which he voiced to his bosom friend, "Darcy, I believe we must discuss Miss Mary Bennet. For, since Collins is to inherit the estate, she can no longer be expected to live at Longbourn. I don't know if Jane and Elizabeth have discussed the matter and I do not wish to bother them, so what do you think about Miss Bennet's predicament?"

Darcy pondered the thought for a moment and as he did so, the nature of his sister-in-law cropped up. He had never given his taciturn sister much thought at all, for his attention was always diverted by the crude and extrovert natures of Lydia (when she attended) and Kitty at family events. All he really thought of Mary Bennet was that she sang very ill but was a great study of the pianoforte. She was no beauty, to be sure, but she – unlike Kitty and certainly Lydia – was not a silly girl, yet she did possess an air of intangibility and aloofness. His wife had described her as devout and bookish, but at the time she could find no other adjectives to adequately paint a picture of her sister and Elizabeth Darcy had words for everything!

"I imagine the best thing for her would be to come to Pemberley with us, at least for the foreseeable future, Bingley," Darcy announced with his typical tone of authority and certainty, "Elizabeth will want to be near her and we can provide everything she will need. Also, I think she may benefit from Georgiana's company and many pianofortes and you already have ladies aplenty at Larksmeade Hall."

Two years before, the Bingleys had quit Netherfield for good, choosing to relocate to the northern counties of the country, for Jane desired to be in closer proximity to her sister rather than keep such close quarters with her ever-present mother. Charles had then succeeded in acquiring Larksmeade Hall, a rather grand estate not too far from Pemberley in the nearby county of Leicestershire.

"That's true, Darcy. And I agree that the best thing to be done is for Mary to come to you. With Jane, Caroline and little Maria and Eliza, there are enough ladies present at Larksmeade."

Bingley's list of residing women in his house made Darcy wistful on account of his own large house. Other than Georgiana, who would soon have to enter into an engagement with some deserving man, and Elizabeth, there were no ladies or lords for that matter, dwelling in Pemberley other than himself. It had been three years since the happy day of his wedding to Elizabeth Bennet, but as of yet, she had not fallen pregnant, whereas her sister had borne her own husband twin girls and showed every sign of being able to produce an heir. He knew that his wife fretted on the matter as much as he did, so he thought it better not to beleaguer her on the subject, yet their childlessness would have to be remedied in the near future. He did not see why they could not conceive, for it was not as though they did not try hard or long enough. But, Darcy swiftly ushered such indecent thoughts from his mind, for it would not do to think upon such things at such a time of mourning and sadness.

When Darcy looked up, he saw that the funeral procession had arrived at St. John's Church and walked with Bingley into the second pew, as the three sisters wished to take the first themselves and rely on their sisterly bonds rather than have two of them defer to their husbands to sustain them and leave the most affected sister out on a limb.

The funeral concluded in good time and the preacher was lavish in his praise of the Bennets and led the dirge-like hymns with solemnity before pronouncing a blessing on the congregation and commiserating with Jane, Elizabeth and Mary. When he departed the company of the family and the men came to take the arms of their ladies, with Darcy offering his other to Mary, Bingley told the group that it was decided that when the Darcys returned to Pemberley on the following day, Mary would be accompanying them and would remain in Derbyshire for the time being.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"Never stop just because you feel defeated. The journey to the other side is attainable only after great suffering."

~ Santosh Kalwar, Quote Me Everyday

Elizabeth worried for her sister and not just the sisterly concern that she felt all the time for her siblings, but a real anxiety for Mary. She had recovered well from her injuries sustained from the coach accident, but there was something more that Elizabeth could not discern. Now that it was only she, Darcy and Mary on the long road from Longbourn to Pemberley, the silence and tension was so obvious and even worse, she would have to endure hours more of it.

Thankfully, Fitzwilliam broke the silence, "Mary, you must be anxious about coming to Pemberley, but pleas have no qualms about it. Anything that you require or wish for will be given you. You have only to ask."

All the response that elicited was a slight nod and an even slighter smile. It was as though the girl had forgotten how to just be content. As for the other travellers, all they could do was to allow Mary her peace and not pester her to be normal after she had undergone such a horrible trauma.

The next morning, after being stuck in the coach, luxurious though it was, through the night, the three finally arrived at Pemberley just as dawn was breaking. Mary had never been to Pemberley, she had always opted to remain at home when the rest of her family travelled into Derbyshire so it made Darcy smile that at least the beautiful sight of the sun as it hit the house for the first time on a new day.

The prospect of Pemberley meant that the light bounced off the lake and emblazoned the house with radiance and the pure energy that was as yet untouched by what the following day and night would bring. The verdant grass and the vibrant brown hues of the bushes and trees that made up the resplendent and widespread Pemberley gardens were stunning enough to call back even the most morose and desolate of souls back to the earthy, calming and all-consuming light in the world.

It was such an environment that Darcy and his wife would cheer and cajole Mary back to her former self, but to their dismay, all the Bennet girl did on her first examination of Pemberley was sigh, nod and then move to the great stairs that led to the magnificent oak door. She could not appreciate such beauty in the world, not when all the beauty she knew had just been snatched so cruelly from her.

"Miss Bennet," Darcy said to her, placing her arm atop his own, "it would be my greatest honour to escort you to your quarters, if you would like to rest for a while and wash. Your new maid, Anna, is waiting for you there and anything you need or want, you may tell her and she will acquire it for you. I believe that my sister, Georgiana, has ordered lunch for us, but if you are too fatigued to come downstairs, we shall have a tray brought to you, but please do join us for supper at seven, Miss Bennet. My sister is so desirous to see you again."

"Thank you, sir," Mary murmured shyly, "you have been most kind. I would like to take some rest before supper and I look forward to seeing Miss Darcy again."

As Darcy led her sister away, Elizabeth reflected that though Mary's words said she was glad of her husband's attention, her manner and her expression told another tale. Her eyes, though they were never called 'fine', were dull and depressed, her posture was redolent of soldiers marching as though they had miles still to go after a long day's trek and her lips were more pursed than they had ever been and Miss Mary Bennet had been known to frown and scowl.

The housekeeper, who was utterly sublime at her job – her vocation, if you will – slid over to Elizabeth's side and, without air or supposition, asked how long the young Miss Bennet would be residing in Pemberley. When her mistress responded with a foreign, defeated sigh that it would take as long as took (apologising for her unhelpful tautology), Mrs Reynolds simply inquired as to whether her sister might take some delight in a cup of tea being taken up to her chambers.

"Oh, Mrs Reynolds," Mrs Darcy gasped with a grin that lit up her wide eyes, "what would any of us do without you? How do you manage to know exactly what the right thing to be said is? You are a treasure, Mrs Reynolds. That is all I shall say, except for that I am certain Mary would appreciate such a gesture."

Later at dinner, once the household was assembled in the parlour, as was the custom in the Darcy manor, there was no uncomfortable silence as before, instead and much more egregious, a gloomy and forced conversation was enacted by the Darcy women: Elizabeth and Georgiana.

Fitzwilliam Darcy was all astonishment and slightly perturbed by his sister's part in the evening's small talk, for she had always been such a mousy, shy creature, even around family whom she knew well. She always much preferred to sit at her pianoforte and permit her masterful playing to be her contribution to the liveliness of the party. He wondered whether he should suspect his wife of hinting to Miss Darcy that she ought to assist her in coaxing Mary out of her hegira of sorrow and mourning in any way she might.

As soon as dinner was announced, Mary bolted upright and stalked into the dining room as though she was under threat, leaving three bewildered people, two of whom had not had a chance to rise before she quit the room, in her wake. No one attempted conversation throughout the four course meal that endured for over an hour. The ambiance not only soured the taste of a perfect shoulder of lamb, but also left the permanent occupants of the house with the impression that it would take much more work and thought to rescue Mary Bennet from her sinking depression, which she seemed determined to let engulf her entirely.

All Elizabeth knew to do as dessert was cleared was to swiftly obstruct Mary's pathway to the grand staircase and petition her to get a decent night's sleep and assure her – as only an elder sister can – that all would seem better in the morning. It was an evident patronisation to all who heard it but none commented since it was kindly meant, but as Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth and Georgiana Darcy watched the newest addition to their previously merry household ascend the stairs, they knew not how to deal with a grieving woman, who would not be comforted, not even Fitzwilliam, since Georgiana had not been old enough to grieve for their mother and had been resented by their father and Elizabeth had the fortitude to allow him to lend her his strength when she was informed of the carriage accident.

It was a quandary, no question. Yet unknown to the three standing forlornly at the foot of the immense staircase, a rider had just set out from Matlock who would hold the key to Miss Bennet's recovery.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

"Eyes as deep, as dark as the night, yet there was something that sparked with warmth, that kept those eyes from being cold."

~ Lora Leigh, Maverick

Georgiana Darcy usually slept peacefully and without obstruction, but in the early hours of the morning, she was whipped from her slumber by loud noises coming from down the hall. They sounded like screams and not just the childish and brief outbursts from a fright, but instead they were the tormented and terrifying sounds of someone in the depths of despair and caught by the unrelenting terror of nightmares.

She swiftly pulled on her robe and hastened down the corridor of Pemberley's grand and lengthy Maidens' Hall, where unmarried women in the family and unwed guests were housed. The point of it was that it was far away from the rest of the manor where the married folk dwelled. For, it would be detrimental to young women's virtues and sensibilities if they chanced to overhear certain connubial activities taking place. In the moments when she sped down the hall, though, Georgiana did wonder at how ridiculous it was that while young girls had to be shielded from the secret acts of the marriage bed, they were quite abandoned and segregated so that if an incident occurred, no one could hear them.

Having flung open the door to her sister-in-law's room, she took in the sight of Mary Bennet feverous and writhing atop her bed, her sheets already soiled with copious sweat. Evidently, she had been experiencing a poor night's sleep for hours before her screams manifested.

Georgiana was well-acquainted with sorrow in all its many forms, but witnessing such abject hardship in one so young caused her heart to swell with pity and compassion for the young woman. She knew what it was to lose her parents, she knew the sorrow of being thwarted in love, though she now knew that what she felt for George Wickham had not been true love, merely adolescent infatuation, but at the time of his betrayal, the sting had been that of true love vanishing.

"No, please," Mary whimpered, "father! Make it stop! I'm so frightened! KITTY!"

From the thrashing and the words that started a faint moan only to become louder and more frantic, Georgiana deduced that her kinswoman was reliving the night that ruined her life and instigated her removal to Derbyshire.

She approached the bed hesitantly, for Mary was swinging her arms about with quite some force and Georgiana had no desire to be hurt, but once she got within arms' reach of her, Miss Darcy managed quite well to pull Mary into a comforting embrace and stroke her hair while uttering calming words until the nightmare subsided and Mary resumed serene sleep.

A secondary problem arose when Georgiana attempted to return to her own bedchamber. When she tried to extricate herself from Miss Bennet's iron grip, the instant Mary felt her nocturnal saviour retreat, the whimpers of a relapse restarted and Georgiana had no wish to force Mary to re-experience such horrors. Thus, the Misses Darcy and Bennet were required to spend the night together with the latter clinging for dear life to the almost sheer fabric of the former's nightgown.

"Rouse the house! Get everyone up! We need to find her!" The less-than-dulcet tones of the Master of the House bellowed after the sun had made its appearance.

"Heavens, why would she do such a thing, Darcy? She was well last night, I thought. I can't imagine why she would ever leave home!"

After the Mistress of the House had spoken, another voice resounded through the vast halls, "If you both believe Miss Darcy has not absconded, then I doubt that she has. Just pause and think for a moment. Where could she be if she is not in her bedchamber?"

"Elizabeth, wake your sister, right now," Darcy instructed his wife, "she might know where Georgiana is."

Elizabeth nodded at her husband and his cousin before flitting down the corridor of Maidens' Hall and rapping on Mary's door. When she heard no reply, or indeed any sound at all, she quietly pushed the door ajar and peeked round it. The sight that greeted her instantaneously relieved her troubled mind and she thought it best to leave the two young women to rest as clearly they had both had a rather eventful night.

On her return to Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam who had arrived in the early hours of the morning to inquire after the family and to ask her spouse's opinion on a thoroughbred roan mare he was thinking of acquiring, Elizabeth told them she had discovered the missing member of the household and invited the two gentlemen to see for themselves the adorable sight in Miss Bennet's bedchamber.

"I'm not sure that would be quite proper, Elizabeth," Darcy reasoned, "I mean I – and certainly Fitzwilliam here – cannot spy on the young women when they are not decent."

"Oh, pish tosh, Darcy," Elizabeth retorted, displaying her usual gumption, "you have to see it, our sisters looking so cosy together. I think Mary must have had a nightmare during the night and Georgiana went in to comfort her and just fell asleep."

Dubiously, the two men followed Elizabeth Darcy and did smile at the pretty and at the same time, sad sight of the two girls slumbering in each other's arms. Georgiana looked as she ever did: bright and beautiful, unburdened, but Mary looked the exact opposite: gaunt, sullen and unsightly. Sure enough, the middle Bennet daughter had never possessed the beauty of her elder sisters but the lack of sleep and prior coma had not helped her looks along at all.

This much was apparent to the Darcys but Colonel Fitzwilliam had not set eyes on Elizabeth's sister in years. She seldom travelled into Derbyshire to see her sister and when the Darcys paid visits to Longbourn, Fitzwilliam never accompanied them. He knew she had suffered greatly from the accident that had cost the rest of her family their lives but just the sight of a damsel in distress appealed to the soldier side of him and was like a call to arms.

"We should go now," he whispered to his co-intruders, "leave them to their rest. Forgive me for saying so, dear Elizabeth, but your sister looks like she needs the rest."

As they walked from Maidens' Hall, Elizabeth replied, "Indeed she does, Colonel. We have tried to make her feel at home, but alas, it is Longbourn and my parents' and Kitty's company she truly craves."

"She has only been here the one night, my dear," Darcy added, "she may yet improve with time and due care."

Elizabeth leaned into her husband's shoulder, feeling quite defeated in the effort to return her sister to health and good spirits. She had thought that it would be the best thing for Mary to return to Derbyshire to live with her family but maybe she did not have the correct temperament or knowledge to heal her broken sibling.

"Elizabeth, Darcy, if you will permit me," Fitzwilliam asked, not at all fazed by the display of affection between his cousin and his wife, "I have seen many a man enter into such a state of melancholia after time on the battlefield on the Continent. I believe I may be able to assist you in helping your sister, but only with your permission to remain at Pemberley, naturally."

Mrs Darcy perked up at the Colonel's kind offer to stay and be of as much assistance as he could be. It was the first good news they'd had at Pemberley in what seemed like decades and she readily accepted his offer, not wanting to give him too much time to reconsider and change his mind, not that he would, being an honourable man.

"Very decent of you, cousin," Darcy stated with a kind smile plastered across his face, "now, might I interested the two of you in coming downstairs for some breakfast?"

As they started downstairs, a light patter of feet could be heard behind them, so Elizabeth directed the two men to continue without her. It was Georgiana who had just woken up and had recalled what had happened in the early hours.

"Georgiana," Elizabeth greeted her sister with a happy smile, "Colonel Fitzwilliam is here and will be staying for a while to assist with Miss Bennet's recovery. I hope this will not inconvenience you, indeed, I believe it may help you get a restful night's sleep."

"Thank you, Elizabeth. I am sorry if I caused the household any worry or trouble this morning. Your sister had a nightmare and she was screaming. I believe she was transported back to the night of the coach accident and when I tried to go after lulling her back to sleep, she resisted, so I stayed."

Elizabeth was truly moved by the younger woman's compassion and kindness, not that she expected Georgiana to show any other emotions, sweetheart that she was, but she had gone above and beyond this morning.

"I will go to my chambers now and get dressed," Miss Darcy announced, "I must greet my cousin and thank him for myself too. Though, if you will permit me to give you some sisterly advice, Elizabeth?"

She nodded instantly.

"Have Mary's maid stay with her at nights. She is too delicate to be left to sleep alone at present. I would also send her to sit with her now while I am gone as to ensure Miss Bennet does not wake alone. I know when I have my night terrors, it is the worst thing to wake without Ann there."

Elizabeth Darcy felt foolish. How could so young and seemingly so innocent a person be able to see what she – Mary's sister – could not? She was ashamed that instead of having her sister comfort and catch her, Mary had Georgiana because Elizabeth had permitted her to be abandoned to her grief and not foreseen that Miss Mary had not quite relinquished the fear she felt and the sorrow that burdened her from the accident.

"You are right, Georgiana," Elizabeth replied, "I thank you for your kindness and perspicacity where my sister is concerned. You have shown maturity and wisdom beyond your years tonight. I will tell Darcy of this and I am sure he will be as proud of you as I am, dear."

That was enough for the young Miss Darcy to hear. All she ever wanted was to be a credit to the brother who was more of a father to her and his wife who was the kindest and most accomplished woman she knew, despite Caroline Bingley's slurs. With a short curtsy, she flitted off to her bedchamber, quite content with herself and reassured that Mary would be looked after more studiously.

"Well then," Elizabeth sighed, "back to the Colonel it is. Though if he can't help us, I am sure I don't know what else is to be done for Mary."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You'll catch that blood in your hands, your blood and the blood of others."

~ Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

When Mary Bennet found herself able to venture downstairs it was late in the day and the sun was already leaning more towards the west than the east. In truth, she would have preferred to remain in her chambers for the foreseeable future, but she had no desire to be the source of extra worry and upset for her sister and her family. She was determined that she would try harder and tomorrow, she would even sit at table with her family and try to stomach some breakfast.

She was intrigued by the sounds of a faint, unfamiliar melody being played on the pianoforte in the small music room. She walked towards the room hesitantly as she knew Georgiana would not be the artist performing since Miss Darcy preferred her own pianoforte in Pemberley's main music room. Elizabeth did not sit down to an instrument unless she was coerced and the only other resident would be out on the estate grounds at this time.

Once Mary reached the sturdy oak door, which was slightly ajar, giving the young, curious party just enough room to peek round the door to glimpse the figure bent over the piano with their back to her.

"Oh!" Mary yelped in surprise as she realised the accomplished player was a man.

The beautiful, lyrical tune halted abruptly as the gentleman-player's eyes darted up to identify the spy and observe her rushing away from the door down the hall. He knew which lady of the house it was that had been his invisible audience and the good colonel hastened after her.

"Miss Bennet," he called, "please, Miss Bennet!"

Mary was in a quandary. She knew not whether to stop or to feign deafness. She was not aware that the Darcys were hosting Colonel Fitzwilliam, not while she and Elizabeth were still in the mourning period. It really did unnerve her that her own dear sister could be so insensitive and foolhardy to open Pemberley's doors so soon after their recent tragedy to her husband's extended family.

With great effort put into her tight-lipped smile, she turned and curtseyed, "Colonel Fitzwilliam, I did not know you were visiting here. Forgive my intrusion on your performance. It will not happen again. Good day, sir."

The brusqueness and pain that inundated her every syllable was obvious to the man. He had not grasped the full extent of the young Miss Bennet's retreat from society or her anxiety and melancholia. All he had gleaned from last night was that her nights were under attack from night terrors and that during the day she was depressed and unsociable, but upon discovering that her grief rendered her nigh-on cold as ice.

"It is of no matter, Miss Bennet. Of course, it is I who must apologise to you for intruding on your period of mourning, but I understood that I might be of some assistance to your sister during this difficult time. Please do not let my presence here alarm or upset you; I could not bear it if it did."

Mary nodded, attempting to process all of the information but very little was remaining within her tired head and she merely spluttered at the man before her in reply.

Had circumstances been altered, the colonel would have found her loss of countenance quite humorous, but he was staying back at his cousin's home to be of assistance to the grief-stricken maiden, not burden her with his presence.

"I had hoped that while I am here, we might play together and maybe accompany your sister," he suggested, "for I have never had the pleasure of hearing her sing, but I am told that she has a fine voice."

"She does indeed, colonel, and I would enjoy that very much, but I fear that at present my company is less than satisfactory."

The colonel, perhaps overly forward in manner, but feeling that it was the only way to bring the young lady back to the land of the living, placed his hand gently on her shoulder and murmured, "I wish, Miss Bennet, you would let me be the judge of the company I choose to keep, but enough of such things," he announced, removing his hand, "may I escort you into the dining room?"

She nodded, not quite sure what had just happened and took the proffered arm of the colonel, marvelling at how impressive his stature was and glided alongside him to eat something.

Mary Bennet did not like talking at mealtimes or when she ate. She read in one of her books on feminine health that it hindered digestion that led to a build-up of bile in the body and bile, as she knew, made people sinful. Thus, sitting with the colonel as she ate and he did not was an awkward experience for the female diner. While she dined in tense silence, he watched as she picked at her food and nursed very little of her hunger, at complete attention and noting every detail in his powerful mind.

Once she had had her fill, the dishes were cleared and all there was between the pair was tension and silence. Mary did not know whether to speak or depart and Fitzwilliam just wanted to wait and watch what the girl would choose to do in the situation he was forcing her to endure.

"Excuse me, Colonel," Mary said, rising unsteadily from her seat, "I believe I ought to find my sister and Miss Darcy. I have not yet seen her or anyone else in the household today."

"Very well, Miss Bennet," the Colonel replied, also standing to show his respect, "I have enjoyed your company greatly. Thank you for allowing me the courtesy of making up my own mind."

He winked cheekily at the young lady and strode out of the great dining room with such an air of authority and surety that Mary's bottom lip quite dropped and she stood watching him walk away from her back to the music room where she discovered him with an open mouth.

"Well," she exclaimed in a manner quite unbecoming of a young lady and altogether uncharacteristic of Miss Mary Bennet, "I have never known such a man!"

With that announced to God and the universe, Mary quit the large, empty space and walked about the manor in search of Elizabeth until Mrs Reynolds, the resolute old housekeeper, informed her politely that the Mistress had taken to her bed with a headache earlier and wished only to be brought a tray for supper but otherwise she was to be left in peaceful solitude to rest and that Miss Darcy had gone for a walk in the gardens.

Mary sighed, both relieved and disappointed that she had partaken of all the company she was likely to on her the first day she had felt somewhat sure of herself, enough to come downstairs at any rate. She went upstairs to her bedchamber and rang for her lady's maid to help her on with her nightgown before she said her daily prayers and whispered a few others that she had composed for the poor souls of her mama, papa and sister before climbing into the grand bed she was allowed at Pemberley and began to ponder how Colonel Fitzwilliam was such an uncommon and affable man to have about her during such a time of sadness and grief.

And thus, Mary Bennet drifted off to sleep before her servant could even enter the room to wish her mistress goodnight before settling down to sleep on the divan in front of her bed as Mrs Reynolds had told her was Mrs Darcy's express wish.


End file.
